


(I Think) I've Fallen In Love

by artificialpippin



Series: I Think [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Reach Around, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, also I really like yellow can you tell ?, cis girl au, it's smutty and cute, only briefly mentioned, painter!gigi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialpippin/pseuds/artificialpippin
Summary: “Shit,” Gigi tsks with no real malice in her voice, pulling the brush away and leaving it to rest in the jar, “ruined.” The corners of her lips tug into a smile as she tries to conceal the damage. Gigi’s attempts to sound petulant are short lived, between the oncoming sunset and her doubting whether she actually liked what she was painting, she finds that Crystal’s distraction isn't entirely unwelcome.
Relationships: Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd
Series: I Think [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167884
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	(I Think) I've Fallen In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crygimethoode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crygimethoode/gifts), [crygiankie_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crygiankie_trash/gifts).



> showing some ✨versatility✨ and producing some crygi content! 
> 
> special shout out and a big thank you to Alias and Madi - thank you for all your support through writing this whole thing, it wouldn't be here without you 💛
> 
> title from I Think by Tyler, the Creator
> 
> as always, come and say hi on tumblr ~ aqpippin

Crystal’s notebook and pencils have gone untouched for the better part of an hour, sitting idly on the couch ever since she traded it for her lighter and one of the joints on the coffee table. Despite good intentions, she never quite got back around to working. 

The living room is soaked in the soft yellow glow of late afternoon, light bouncing around the room and illuminating whatever it hits. Rays catch the long empty wine glasses on the table and send patterns of orange and white dancing across the hardwood floors. The air is warm and heavy, scents of smoke and Gigi’s favourite patchouli incense linger in the room, and Crystal is breathing in a slow and controlled rhythm, making each inhalation count. Her and Gigi are both working from home for the first time in what feels like forever, and as a result Crystal feels each breath should be cherished. 

No one has spoken for over an hour. The atmosphere is quiet, just a steady stream of white noise - the occasional scratch of lead on paper, the periodical tap of a paintbrush on glass between colour changes. Crystal feels no need to disrupt the flow they’ve created, even if she’s reached a dead end. She brings a new joint to her lips and flicks the lighter on, and the sizzle of the paper and the smell of fresh smoke send Crystal into a daze.

But then there’s Gigi.

Gigi, who is wearing nothing but one of her old, oversized, paint-stained shirts and no pants. Gigi, who has been sitting in silence ever since she moved from her spot in the corner of the room to perch herself next to the coffee table in order to catch the last of the daylight. Gigi, who moves with the sun - following the rays and sighing each time she shuffles further around the table. 

She’s simply  _ there _ , facing Crystal but not looking at her, head down while she paints. There’s a jar of orange paint water on the coffee table, balancing precariously on the edge; and if Crystal cared, she would have reminded Gigi about the last time she dropped a jar, how Gigi cut her thumb on a shard of glass and how they had to throw out the rug so the living room didn’t look like a murder scene. But Crystal doesn’t care, and instead she smiles every time Gigi remembers to push the glass backwards. Crystal cares about how light she feels, cares about the way Gigi's hair is in the messiest top knot on the crown of her head, cares more about the paint on Gigi’s cheek more than she could ever care about a broken jar. 

Crystal thinks that watching Gigi paint is one of the highest forms of intimacy in their relationship. Gigi never used to paint in the living room, always saved it for the studio and would stop whenever Crystal came to visit. But now she doesn’t stop, even lets Crystal watch sometimes - albeit from afar. Crystal watches as Gigi dips her brush in the jar once more, watches as the water changes from tangerine to apricot in enchanting spirals. Yellow. Crystal  _ has _ to see. 

She moves off the couch with the same amount of grace as a baby giraffe; stumbling and eventually settling behind Gigi. Crystal tucks her head into the space between Gigi’s neck and shoulder, and the ginger halts her motions for a moment to acknowledge Crystal’s presence before continuing with quick brush strokes. Crystal watches intently as shades of orange and yellow start to blend and bleed into each other, watches the way Gigi’s wrist flicks and curves with each stroke; and she starts to feel the warmth of Gigi’s skin seep into her chest. 

Crystal tilts her head, just the smallest bit, so that she can press her lips to the skin of Gigi’s neck, and Crystal can feel the vibrations of Gigi’s chuckling against her lips. Gigi keeps painting, sighs contently when she feels Crystal’s arms wrap around her waist.

“You’ve seen it, you gonna leave me alone now?” Gigi finally coos, voice too light and soft to carry out her fake annoyance. Crystal thinks Gigi’s voice is smooth and airy, sounds like wind chimes and feels like home. Crystal exhales sharply against Gigi’s neck, and moves to press her lips across her shoulder blade with more intent, more pressure, answering quietly,

“No, probably not.”

Gigi’s hand comes to a halt, brush pressed against the bottom left corner of the page. Crystal watches, peering over Gigi’s shoulder, as the paper around Gigi’s brush gets darker and darker. Canary becomes honey and eventually butterscotch before the paper disintegrates, leaving a small hole in the bottom of the painting.

“Shit,” Gigi tsks with no real malice in her voice, pulling the brush away and leaving it to rest in the jar, “ruined.” The corners of her lips tug into a smile as she tries to conceal the damage. Gigi’s attempts to sound petulant are short lived, between the oncoming sunset and her doubting whether she actually liked what she was painting, she finds that Crystal’s  _ distraction _ isn't entirely unwelcome. 

“It’s beautiful, G,” Crystal hums, squeezing her arms around Gigi’s waist, “keep going. I’ll frame it and hang it up in my office.” Gigi shakes her head and indulges in a few quiet giggles before picking her brush back up and choosing a shade of orange that reminds Crystal of dried leaves and Gigi’s little pumpkin spice candle. 

It’s at this point that Crystal  _ knows _ that she isn’t going back to working. She has all the time in the world to watch Gigi paint, and so she pushes herself back to let Gigi focus, and just watches in silence. She admires the way Gigi adds depth and warmth with just a perfectly timed flick of her wrist, and she is dumbfounded, awestruck, by how the painting changes every time she tilts her head a little more to the left, every time she blinks. 

And then Crystal finds herself moving closer to Gigi once more - her nose brushes against Gigi’s shoulder, tracing the curve of her decolletage with chaste kisses that are more tickles of warm air than lips. When Gigi whispers Crystal’s name in response, it’s a soft sigh - grants permission even though her eyes are still locked on the painting in front of her. Gigi’s breathy singsong is what finally gets to Crystal, pours fuel on the fire that has been simmering inside her, pulls her from  _ wanting  _ to  _ needing _ . She weaves an arm around Gigi’s waist, squeezes at the soft flesh of Gigi’s hip in a silent demand for attention. 

The way Gigi’s paintbrush drops with a high pitched ring against the glass is like a toast, an ode to Crystal’s lips running up the column of Gigi’s neck, to the juncture of her neck and jaw, across to the spot under her ear. Gigi crumbles with a deep breath in, and Crystal can feel the ginger’s chest expand and press against her. Gigi is trapped between Crystal’s front and her arm, and Crystal chuckles when Gigi rolls her head back, cranes her neck and beckons silently for Crystal to come closer. The smirk on Crystal’s lips doesn’t disappear, instead grows wider, when Gigi adjusts herself slightly and catches her lips in an indulgent, slow,  _ filthy _ kiss. 

There are many thoughts that move through Crystal’s head, and yet she can’t bring herself to tear her lips away from Gigi’s. She thinks about how cheesy it is that they’re making out in the living room like teenagers, thinks they should stop kissing in front of an open window, thinks they should probably move off the floor before this gets too heated. But when Gigi shifts in her arms and faces Crystal with as much grace as her hold allows, when Gigi’s hand falls to the small of Crystal’s back and presses her closer, Crystal can’t bring herself to stop what’s happening. Instead, Crystal pulls Gigi closer than she thought was even possible. Dying sunlight catches the orange strands of Gigi’s hair and there’s a spot of yellow paint in the hollow of her cheeks that distracts Crystal for a second - and she stares, breath caught in her throat. 

“Are we just going to sit here?” Gigi asks, voice soft and breathy. Her tone is playful, low and dark as if she already knows the answer but would still get off on Crystal’s confirmation. But Crystal has other ideas. Crystal shakes her head and her next shift is done with such force it’s as if she has been snapped from the gravity of Gigi's presence, as if she’s been driven to move with no intention of stopping. She kisses across Gigi’s jaw, presses her lips against the paint on her skin, travels back to Gigi’s lips with a newfound sense of urgency as she slips her hands under the hem of Gigi’s shirt, rakes her nails across alabaster skin, draws a small heart over Gigi’s spine. Gigi’s skin is hot, a radiant mix of sunlight and want, and her back arches against Crystal’s hands. If she were any closer Crystal swears they would be melting into each other, and the thought fleets as quickly as it comes as Gigi’s tongue claims Crystal’s mouth, expelling a long, low grown from Crystal. When the kiss is finally broken, Crystal swears quietly as Gigi grips and fiddles with the loose fabric of Crystal’s top, pulling it up in a demand that is silent until her impatience takes over.

“Off,  _ now _ .” Who is Crystal to argue? She laughs as she leans back  _ just _ enough for the thin material to be pulled over her head and tossed aside.

“So fucking impatient.” Crystal starts, and she’s about to mock Gigi’s eagerness when Gigi uses the space between them to remove her own shirt, now in front of Crystal in nothing but yellow panties. The pink and orange light of sunset catches in the dips of Gigi’s collarbones, and Crystal is suddenly too flustered for a witty remark. Gigi notices, because  _ of course she does _ , and there’s a coy smirk on her lips when she leans in for another kiss. It’s too quick for Crystal’s liking, too chaste, borderline frustrating, and Gigi tries to prompt her with a simple,  _ ‘yeah?’. _ Crystal can’t recall the last time she’s wanted anything, let alone  _ anyone _ so badly - she moves on pure instinct, spins Gigi back around and pulls her so that she’s sitting between Crystal’s legs. 

“Pick up the brush,” it’s not a request, it’s a demand, and with Gigi’s back pressed flush against her chest, Crystal can feel the goosebumps starting to rise on Gigi’s skin. Gigi lets out an audible whine, so sweet and golden, goading Crystal to repeat herself, “the brush, Gigi.” Gigi releases a shaky breath, and leans forward just enough to reach the tip of the brush, pull it from the jar and lean back into Crystal’s chest, waiting for further instruction.

“No, no,” Crystal coos, tucking a loose strand of ginger hair behind Gigi’s ear, making sure to lightly trace the column of her neck on her descent, “pick a colour, and keep painting.” The groan that comes from Gigi’s throat is deep and visceral, and Crystal pushes them both forward enough for Gigi to pat the brush against a pan of daffodil-coloured paint and bring herself back to the easel with a shaky hand. 

Crystal sits patiently, lets Gigi get a few uninterrupted strokes in before allowing her hands to start ghosting the milky expanse of Gigi’s skin, barely making contact; and they both draw in a sharp breath when Crystal’s fingers pinch and twist one of Gigi’s nipples. Gigi’s hand wobbles slightly, and as soon as the brush is lifted so too are Crystal’s hands.

“Want me to keep going?” Crystal asks quietly, angling herself so that her lips brush lightly against the shell of Gigi’s ear. She is met with nothing but a whine in response, and soon Gigi throws her head back against Crystal’s shoulder. Gigi swears she can feel her eyes roll into the back of her head when Crystal finally speaks up again, “use your words.” 

“Please,” Gigi whispers, rolling her head to make fleeting eye contact with Crystal, “please don’t stop.”

“Alright,” Crystal chastises, pushing Gigi back towards the easel and running her hands over Gigi’s thighs, “if you stop, I stop. Keep going.”

Gigi’s strokes become shakier and messier as Crystal’s hands confidently continue to explore the vastness of Gigi’s skin. Deft fingers trace the plains and contours of Gigi’s abdomen - and even though the ginger whimpers when Crystal snaps the band of her underwear, her hand doesn’t stop moving, keeps working with a newfound diligence and burning desire to please. Crystal makes note of what actions coax the richest of moans and sweetest of whines from Gigi’s throat - small touches that would normally go unnoticed, commands that would usually make Gigi laugh instead of whimper. Gigi can feel the curve of Crystal’s lips on her neck, can feel every kiss, nip, and  _ bite _ that is unleashed against the soft skin. 

Crystal finds herself watching the blood rush to and from the knuckles on Gigi’s right hand every time she grips the paintbrush just a little bit tighter. What were once smooth sweeps of honey and sunlight become heavy-handed markings as Gigi struggles to keep working, and before either of them know it the fingers that are toying with Gigi’s nipples are intertwined with Gigi’s, the ginger squeezing Crystal’s hand with just as much force as the brush as she continues to writhe in Crystal’s lap. Crystal is nonchalantly tracing circles into the smooth skin above Gigi’s panties, feigning disinterest as she continues her assault on Gigi’s neck. 

“Crystal,” Gigi breathes, brush sitting in the corner of the page, colours bleeding together and further staining the painting, “do  _ something _ .”

“You’re making such a mess baby,” Crystal tsks, readjusting and scraping her teeth across Gigi’s shoulder blade, “such a shame. Keep going, tidy it up,” Gigi’s nails are clawing into the skin of Crystal’s hand, and if she weren’t so amused by the entire situation she’s sure she would have told Gigi to quit it. Gigi can feel Crystal wiggling her fingers, can hear the change in her breathing when she intentionally digs a little deeper.

“Behave” Crystal chides as she pinches the skin at the top of Gigi’s thigh, eliciting a sharp yelp, “quietly.” Gigi laughs half heartedly, and when Crystal’s fingers find themselves in Gigi’s mouth, she finds the situation no longer humorous. 

“I said quietly,” the curse that falls from Crystal’s lips is barely audible, but it’s enough for Gigi to lave her the digits with her tongue and scrape her teeth against them when Crystal finally pries them from her mouth. Crystal’s breath is heavy against Gigi’s ear, and she finds herself absentmindedly pressing her hips forward, “you’re filthy.”

“I’m yours,” Gigi pants, pressing back and grinding against Crystal as she dives back into painting, a second wind of confidence pushing her to continue. Crystal hums in confirmation, Gigi  _ is _ hers - hers to touch, to melt, to tease, “touch me.” 

“You’re not in charge here, Gigi,” Crystal reminds her, as if Gigi’s forgotten that she’s nearly naked on the living room floor, legs spread and hips rolling, “you gotta earn it.”

“My brush hasn’t left the page,” Gigi notes, wrist once again moving in light, quick flicks, “so,  _ touch me _ .” Despite the dark patches that litter the page, Gigi’s is correct, and Crystal finds herself thinking that it warrants  _ some _ sort of reward.

“Fine.” she huffs, beginning to trace the smattering of freckles that cover Gigi’s forearms and shoulders

“What the fuck, Crys?” Gigi grunts, leaning forward to wash her brush and change colours. She leans back against Crystal’s chest and keeps working, determined not to be the first one to crack. Crystal resumes the same light touches as before, connecting the soft brown speckles with her fingers.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Crystal muses, leaning forward and kissing the spots across Gigi’s shoulders and at the nape of her neck, “guess I’ll stop.” The whine that leaves Gigi’s throat when Crystal stops all forms of contact is loud and involuntary, and Crystal is snickering as she pushes herself away from Gigi. 

“No, no, no,” Gigi whimpers, reaching behind herself in an attempt to find Crystal, “that’s not what I meant.” 

“Be quiet,” Crystal snaps, “you’ll take what you’re given. And I don’t think you  _ deserve  _ anything right now. Keep painting.”

Gigi’s second wind is short lived, the air of confidence that surrounded her shattered like fallen paint jars - leaving behind a broken, wet mess. Gigi misses the feeling of Crystal’s hands on her, despite not being given the relief she craves. She misses the friction, and in a futile attempt to seek her own release, rolls her hips in a way that forces the lace of her panties to rub against her clit. She whimpers quietly, and is taken aback when she hears the same sound come from behind her. She knows that whine, knows the sound like the back of her hand, but Gigi is  _ determined _ , so she ignores it, keeps painting.

“Gigi,” Crystal coos, long and breathy and  _ needy _ , “turn around.”

“No.” Gigi can  _ just _ make out a distorted reflection in the wine glasses on the table, and she watches, fixated, as Crystal’s hand runs down her chest, across to her nipples, tugs on the barbell that’s pieced through the left. Crystal can sense regret in Gigi’s voice, knows that she  _ wants _ to turn around, but also knows that she’s too headstrong to go down without one hell of a fight.

“No?” 

“Nope.” Gigi sighs, popping the p and wiggling her ass with just a  _ hint _ of exaggeration. She can hear the grunt that comes from Crystal’s lips, and when Gigi reaches behind her in search of Crystal’s warmth once again, the only thing she feels is lace. The white lace of Crystal’s underwear is sitting in the palm of Gigi’s hand. It’s enough to make Gigi pull her hand from the paper, drop her brush to the floor, and hold the panties in both hands, hold them out in front of her in pure disbelief. 

“Uh uh,” Crystal chastises, crawling forward and repositioning herself directly behind Gigi. The ginger can feel Crystal’s heat behind her, can feel her breasts on her back, the cool metal of the barbell against her spine, “what happened to being good? Pick up the brush.”

“Fuck you,” Gigi groans, no real malice in her tone, “I’m the best.”

“Good girls keep painting.” Crystal smirks at the slight shake of Gigi’s head, and once the brush is clean and freshly covered with marigold paint, Crystal’s hand traces down the column of Gigi’s spine.

“Fucking  _ finally _ .” Gigi whispers, but the relief she is seeking still doesn’t come. 

Instead Gigi feels Crystal’s knuckles grazing against the small of her back, feels her repositioning herself -  _ hears _ her touching herself. At first, Crystal is quiet - all deep breaths and soft whimpers, and Gigi can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Flames run through her veins, synapses spit pure fire when Crystal leans forward, brushes her lips against the shell of Gigi’s ear and moans, loud and unbridled. She’s putting on a show, and if Gigi isn’t going to watch her then she sure as hell is going to make sure Gigi knows what she’s missing out on. Gigi’s hand stills and her eyes flutter closed at Crystal’s  _ performance _ , but to her credit it doesn’t leave the page. Crystal peppers kisses down Gigi’s jaw and neck as she curls two fingers up inside herself before pulling them out and dragging the wetness up to her clit. She rubs in small, quick circles - just how she likes it - and soon performative moans die back down to breathy whines and shaky breaths.

“Gigi,” Crystal moans quietly, pure and rich against the column of Gigi’s neck, sending vibrations through her entire body like fireworks, “feels so good.” Gigi keens high in her throat in response, because she too can feel it every time Crystal’s fingers are thrust back inside herself, every time a hand winds its way up to pinch at a nipple, every time deft fingers move in little circles, “all because of you, all for you.” 

“Crys,” Gigi whimpers, throwing her head back against Crystal’s shoulder, “you  _ sound _ so good. I  _ need _ you, please.” Crystal’s moans heighten in pitch, and a soft  _ fuck _ falls from her lips as the fingers that are tugging at her barbell start to migrate, dance across the curve of Gigi’s ribcage until Gigi’s own rosy nipple is being rolled between Crystal’s thumb and index finger. The yelp that is coaxed from Gigi’s throat is mixed with laughter, “yes, more.” Crystal’s hands begin to move faster, her left grinding against her clit with every thrust, while her right travels across the soft, milky skin of Gigi’s chest and abdomen - up to a nipple, down to the pantyline and back again. It’s been no time at all and Crystal is already  _ so close _ , and they both know it. Her moans are becoming more strident, getting closer together - a telltale sign that she’s on the brink, and Crystal jolts forward and buries her head in the crook of Gigi’s neck.

“You close, baby?” Gigi whispers, wrist moving lazily against the page in what is now a half-hearted attempt to keep painting. She goes to lean forward, to wash her brush and change colours - but Crystal moves first, wrapping an arm around Gigi’s body and locking her in place, nails digging into the soft skin of Gigi’s waist and leaving little red crescents in their wake. Crystal struggles for friction - her hand is soaked, but she doubles down in her effort to reach her high. Moans and grunts are muffled by Gigi’s neck, and the closer Crystal gets the louder she becomes. Her eyes are screwed shut, chest tight, jaw clenching as she reaches the spot inside herself that makes her see white. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers into Gigi’s ear, catching the ginger’s earlobe between her teeth and tugging harshly which elicits another sweet moan from Gigi’s lips, “you’re gonna make me cum.” Teeth scrape down Gigi’s jaw, down the column of her neck, across to the muscles of Gigi’s shoulder. Brush sitting idly next to her, Gigi’s right arm has come to rest on top of Crystal’s, fingers interlocked and squeezing intermittently. Crystal’s breathing is shallow and shaky, and Gigi moans when she feels Crystal sucking against the skin in the hollow above her clavicle, teeth raking across the alabaster flesh and tongue laving against the fresh hickey. 

“Baby, do it,” Gigi coaxes, pushing her ass against Crystal’s hand, “show me.” Crystal moans again, long and guttural, and Gigi feels goosebumps rise on her skin when Crystal’s teeth sink into her shoulder, groaning into the muscle. She pulls herself away and rests her head against the soft skin between Gigi’s shoulder blades while her teeth sink into her bottom lip in a futile attempt to cum quietly. 

“Gigi, fuck.” Crystal rolls her hips into her fingers over and over and over again as her orgasm continues to wash over her, not stopping until she finally goes limp, Gigi’s body the only thing holding her up, until Gigi is the only thing on her mind.

Gigi. Gigi, who's back is pressed flush against Crystal’s front. Gigi, who pulls Crystal’s hand away from her pussy. Gigi, who sucks Crystal’s fingers into her mouth until they’re clean. 

“Fuck, baby,” Crystal grunts as Gigi scrapes her teeth against her digits as she pulls them from her mouth, “you’re so good.” Gigi hums nonchalantly, too preoccupied with dragging Crystal’s wet fingers down - over her chin, down her neck, down her abdomen - all the way until Crystal’s fingers are left sitting on the waistband of Gigi’s panties. Crystal’s other hand is still wrapped around Gigi’s waist, fingers still entwined, once red nail marks on the flesh of her hips a soothing pink. Her forehead is still pressed into the soft skin between Gigi’s shoulder blades, whimpering quietly as she comes down from her orgasm while Gigi guides her hand to where she needs it. She drags Crystal’s fingers across the lace once, twice, three times, pressing them against her clit every time.

“Geege,” Crystal whines, feeling her fingers get wetter with every stroke, “how do you want me?” Even though her head is foggy, Crystal finds herself moving to tug Gigi’s earlobe between her teeth, letting out a gentle moan when Gigi bucks back against her. Gigi lols her head back against Crystal’s shoulder as she makes Crystal’s hand dip below the yellow lace of her panties. Her eyes are screwed shut, blindly making Crystal run her fingers through her folds, dragging them back up to rub at her clit in small circles. Gigi whimpers quietly, burying her head in Crystal’s neck as she pushes Crystal’s hand back down.

“Just fuck me. Please.” Gigi’s attempt at a demand is petulant - soft and breathy, needy and desperate. Crystal nods wordlessly, breath still shaky, before slipping a finger inside of Gigi and curling upwards. Gigi’s moan is loud when she feels the first finger inside her, her hips buck when she feels the second follow swiftly, and the third is enough to coax Gigi to bring her head out of the crook of Crystal’s neck and stare back up at the redhead. They stare at each other wordlessly - communicating in moans and whines and whimpers as Gigi fucks herself down on Crystal’s fingers. They’re not sure who’s in charge anymore, Gigi’s hand is wrapped around Crystal’s wrist too loosely, and Crystal is too far gone to care about teasing Gigi any longer. Gigi’s grip on Crystal’s wrist doesn’t last long, and Gigi’s fingers soon migrate to the warm skin of Crystal’s thigh, nails digging into the flesh as Crystal hits the spot inside Gigi that makes her squirm in her girlfriend’s lap. 

“Crys,” Gigi whines, grinding against Crystal’s hand, riding her fingers with abandon, “I need-” Crystal nods silently, pulling Gigi closer and kissing her roughly - all teeth and tongue and reverence. It’s all the permission Gigi needs to come around Crystal’s fingers, whimpering into Crystal’s mouth who swallows each sound thrown into the air surrounding them. Crystal can feel everything - can feel the heave of Gigi’s chest, the stutter of her hips, the quiver of her pussy; and she is awestruck as she watches Gigi finally reach the orgasm she’s been craving. Crystal helps her ride it out, lets Gigi continue to fuck herself down on Crystal’s hand as she presses kisses against Gigi’s lips, sucks marks into the soft skin of her neck and décolletage. Gigi’s body finally slows, rhythm finally falters - but when Crystal goes to pull her hand from the lacy confines of Gigi’s underwear, Gigi’s hand wraps itself around Crystal’s wrist and holds her still. Crystal gets it,  _ gets _ what Gigi is  _ asking _ for, and Gigi relaxes herself back against Crystal’s frame as the redhead pumps faster, drives deeper, eliciting incoherent mumbles from Gigi’s lips. Gigi’s second orgasm is pulled from her quicker than anticipated, and she comes with Crystal spewing obscenities into her ears and salacious whines and whimpers of Crystal’s name falling from her lips. 

Gigi’s grip on Crystal’s wrist finally laxes, and Crystal takes great care in removing her fingers and repositioning Gigi’s panties, eliciting another soft whine from the ginger, who lays panting in Crystal’s embrace, and Crystal thinks she’s gone to heaven when she tastes Gigi on her own fingers, humming in approval and winking down at a sated and ruined Gigi. 

“That.. I need to, fuck.. Crys.” Gigi babbles, spinning herself around so that she’s facing Crystal. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s warmth, to feel each other’s breaths on their skin, but they’re far enough apart that Gigi has to work to keep herself upright. The sky behind Crystal is warm, tinted with shades of honey and apricot that make the living room glow, make Crystal look like a beacon if Gigi squints her eyes  _ just _ right. They’re in the dying moments of daylight, tones of peach and rose starting to bleed in from behind the clouds.

“Easy baby,” Crystal grins, and Gigi’s soft whimpers eventually become giggles, “you don’t need to do anything.” 

“But I want to,” Gigi’s voice is soft, and she moves forward until her palm connects with Crystal’s shoulder, pushing until Crystal gets the memo and lays down, “want to say thank you. Want to get you off.” 

Gigi moves slowly, slots a milky thigh between Crystal’s own and leans forward to brush their noses together, to press a soft kiss to Crystal’s lips before beginning her descent down the tawny expanse of Crystal’s body. She presses her lips, drags her tongue, rakes her teeth down every inch of Crystal’s sternum and abdomen until she’s lying flat on the floor, stomach pressed against the warm spot their bodies had created just moments before. Gigi can feel the muscles in Crystal’s thighs twitching, can see how Crystal is flushed and drooling, clenching around nothing. Gigi looks up at Crystal from between her thighs, and when Crystal’s eyes meet hers, all Gigi can see is a goddess staring down at her, eyes hooded and panting. 

“I love you,” Gigi whispers, dipping her head to suck kisses into the skin of Crystal’s inner thighs before offering the redhead a hand to hold, “love you.” Gigi feels when Crystal interlocks their fingers, and it's enough of an invitation for her to lean forward, wrap her lips around Crystal’s clit and begin sucking. It goes unsaid that Crystal is teetering on the edge of her second orgasm - Gigi can hear it in the way Crystal whimpers, can see it in the way Crystal is toying with her nipple piercing, can feel it in the way Crystal’s hips buck against her. Whines become articulate begging for Gigi to keep going, and the way that Crystal’s thighs are bracketing her head leaves Gigi thinking that she has no other option. 

“Gigi, please,” Crystal whimpers, back arching despite Gigi’s best efforts to hold her still, “I want to cum, need to cum.” Gigi hums against Crystal, letting her tongue lave over the redhead’s folds. Gigi nods and squeezes hand, and that’s all Crystal knows that it’s the permission she’s been waiting for. Gigi doesn’t stop until she feels Crystal finally go limp underneath her, until she feels Crystal  _ push _ her head away. Gigi submits with a giggle, pressing a few more chase kisses to Crystal’s thighs before pulling herself up and laying next to Crystal on the floor, tucking herself under Crystal’s arm.

They’re both quiet, reduced to the occasional pant as they work to catch their breaths. The room has grown darker, and Gigi indulges in watching the last few rays of sunlight dance over Crystal’s skin before moving to lazily drape an arm across Crystal’s chest and kiss her then and there - where the golden hour glow on Crystal’s skin has been placed by the soft light of sunset. Gigi sighs deeply, making no effort to move for now. She knows she’ll cool down and that lying on the hardwood will eventually be uncomfortable, but for now she’s too blissed out to care. She knows that Crystal feels the same, and for a moment they lay in silence, nothing to be heard but slowed breathing. 

Crystal is first to break the silence, and she does so with a muffled laugh in the crook of Gigi’s neck. Right back where they started, and Crystal teases quietly, “you said I love you.” Gigi scoffs, and even though Crystal’s eyes are closed she knows that Gigi is rolling her eyes.

“Shut up,” Gigi groans, “it’s not like it’s news to you.” And then the room is silent once again.

Crystal’s breathing is mostly even, her voice mostly steady, when she says it back. 


End file.
